Temptation
by vintage1983
Summary: A trip up north to collect a suspect causes Gene and Alex to ponder on the nature of their relationship and take in the local nightlife, only for Galex to be hindered by unwelcome third parties. Fluff, angst and M for later chapters.
1. Time to go

_Hi all, I hope you will excuse a really self indulgent fic. This doesn't fit into series 2 events, but the date is that of a real event, which I wanted to keep accurate. I would like to dedicate this story to the Mayfair, Newcastle, an amazing venue snatched away before my fake ID was no longer necessary, and all those who rocked out there. _

_I do not own Ashes to Ashes._

**Chapter One- Time to go**

**Thursday 11****th**** March, 1982 **

Alex entered CID. Gene was grinning devilishly; it made Alex nervous about what was coming next.

"Bolly, perfect timing," he said, her heart sinking slightly at what was coming next. Gene rubbed his hands together, relishing his brief moment of power over his stubborn and often insubordinate DI.

"Yes, Guv," she sighed. Whatever he had planned, she suspected she wouldn't like it all that much. Chris had sunk down into his chair; he clearly knew what it was and was trying to avoid being drawn into any involvement, never a good sign.

"Tell yer what, want the good news or the bad news first?" he said still grinning inanely.

"Good news, soften the blow," she said resigned to the fact that whatever marginally positive point he had managed to extract from the news to follow, it would by far be outweighed by the attached negative.

"George Carter, blagger from last week, cheeky northern muppet, well, we had a phone call from a DI Newton, he's been nicked," Gene said perching on the edge of Alex's desk.

"Well that's good, let me guess the bad news is somebody else is claiming your collar, and it's dented your delicate ego that he eluded the mighty Manc Lion?" Alex felt somewhat relieved; whatever macho-bullshit rant was to follow was manageable. Her relief was short-lived.

"No, Lady Bols, the bad news is that DI Newton of Northumbria Police is 'olding our villain at," he referred to a scrap of paper in his hand, "Pilgrim Street station, Newcastle. Seems our blagger legged it home to Geordieland sharpish when he thought the Gene Genie was looking for 'im. You and I, Drakey, are going up there to collect 'im."

"Well, why me?" Alex protested, it would certainly involve an overnight stay, alone, away with Gene Hunt, stuck together in the car for hours on end, his impatient driving, the others were bound to suggest things, it was a complete nightmare.

"Drew the short straw, Bolly," he said, still beaming at the prospect of an overnight stay with his glamorous DI.

"I didn't draw any straws," she insisted.

"Raymondo 'as cried off sick, and Chris is a dozy twonk, tough, yer goin'."

Chris looked up, indignant at the Guv's remark, before having enough sense to realise it was in his best interests to maintain a low profile and allow himself to be ruled out of the venture by virtue of being a twonk, he'd promised Shaz he'd take her out that evening and he didn't fancy a trip to the frozen north and a long ride back to London with a notoriously gobby villain on Friday.

"Right, go 'ome, pack all those wotsits you women take with yer, try and keep it to one suitcase, Bols, it's only one night, no need for the kitchen sink," he instructed as Alex reluctantly shrugged on her jacket, it seemed she had only taken off a few minutes ago, "oh and pack something slutty, we'll be going out."

Alex fumed as she headed back to the flat, muttering her annoyance at Gene as she went. He had arranged to collect her in an hour, plenty of time to collect her things and calm down. The front of that man, to just assume she had to accompany him out, he'd done this on purpose. Resigned to her trip away she started to pack, the usual things, toiletries, change of clothes. Alex momentarily considered ignoring his demand, and then laid a short black cocktail dress and matching black stilettos onto the top of her case, being careful not to crease it as she zipped it up. She couldn't explain why she did it, she suddenly wanted to, remembered how she liked it when he looked her up and down admiringly, wanted him to notice her. It made her feel foolish, that ship had long since sailed. There had been drunken moments, almosts and nearlys, but that was a long time ago, it was never going to happen. If he'd wanted her, he'd have taken his opportunity when it presented itself, not leaving her to fall into the arms of some Thatcherite wanker, or to sleep it off alone.

Gene sat impatiently in the Quattro. It had taken him all of five minutes to throw a few essentials into a bag. She was taking her time packing; he'd beeped the horn twice, only to be waved at and then shouted at from the window of the flat. Maybe she was going to a little trouble fishing out something special, God, he hoped so. It was a golden opportunity, away from prying eyes and nosey parkers. It was wishful thinking, perhaps. In all the time she'd been there he never felt he'd gotten even remotely near, except when she was far too drunk to be taken seriously. Who was he kidding? She was far too good for him, always would be, although her taste in blokes left a lot to be desired, poncy sleazes the lot of 'em. He snapped back to reality when she suddenly appeared on the pavement, a small pull along case in tow. Forcing any thoughts of getting closer to her out of his mind, he leapt out to take the case and load it into the boot.

"I'm not completely useless you know, I could have done that myself," she said, trying to disguise her approval. It was nice to be treated like a lady sometimes...by him. Gene Hunt the gentleman, she rather liked that chivalrous streak that occasionally shone through the hard and crass front he put on.

"Sorry I troubled myself," Gene muttered, wondering if that would set the tone for this trip away.

Alex climbed into the passenger seat. She had changed out of her unspeakably tight jeans into a knitted dress, ankle boots and thick black tights for the journey, if she was not entirely comfortable with the excursion, then she was at least going to be comfortable in her clothes. Gene glanced down at her thighs and she suddenly became self-conscious, tugging at the hem of her dress, which suddenly felt much shorter than she had thought in the flat.

"All set?" he smiled as wickedly as he had in CID when he'd first told her about the trip to Tyneside.

Alex nodded, in two minds whether or not to fasten her seat belt as the Quattro roared into life and skidded off for the long journey north.

* * *

As they finally made their way out of London, the traffic thinned. The A1 northbound wasn't busy, but it was a long road stretched out in front of them. They talked a little about police business, Carter's record, the job he had pulled, and then there was a long and awkward silence. They rarely talked socially without alcohol to loosen the tongue. There was almost a sense of nervousness in the atmosphere. Alex flicked on the radio. It wasn't a recent hit, if Alex could fathom what constituted recent anymore. It was...she calculated about three years old.

Gene scowled, "what's this bloody rubbish?" he snapped.

"Joy Division, Love Will Tear Us Apart, it's a classic," Alex replied a little dismayed at his lack of knowledge of popular music and culture.

"Joy Division, Joy?" he questioned, "Christ, sounds bloody miserable to me." He didn't know much about love tearing people apart, a pack of rabid dogs on the other hand, now that would silence that whining noise.

"Well I suppose Ian Curtis did kill himself," she said glumly acknowledging that perhaps he had a point, it wasn't the jolliest of sounds, but surely he could see there was more to it than that, did he always have to look at everything in such black and white terms.

They had never talked about things like music. She guessed from his taste in films, "Don't you like country music then?"

Gene nodded, whizzing past a heavy goods vehicle and momentarily focusing a little more on the road.

"Well isn't that depressing?" Alex quizzed.

There was no point arguing, she knew it all, an answer for everything. He suspected popular music was a subject that would only make him look even more out of date and seem old to her. Best change the subject he thought.

"You got something nice to squeeze that arse of yours into tonight?" he asked.

Alex rolled her eyes. He couldn't get anything right. If he lit a cigarette, she coughed in an exaggerated manner, wafting the smoke and winding down the window, making the car freezing cold, and it seemed like you could feel the temperature dropping as they headed north. Spring had most definitely not sprung. He decided to stay quiet, save making an idiot of himself. Being alone with her and sober, he lost his bravado. This wasn't going as he'd hoped.

Alex decided it best to stay quiet. Whatever she said she got little out of him, or she'd have to open the window and could barely hear what he was saying over the drone of the traffic. It started to rain. The motion and low whirring sound of the windscreen wipers slowly started to lull Alex off to sleep. Her lids became heavy; until she could not fight the hypnotic effect of the constant back and forth swish and her eyes closed. She drifted off into a dream, a blur of images. They were sitting in Luigi's in their usual spot in the corner; there was no one else there. The flicker of the candle light made his blue eyes sparkle. She watched his mouth closely as he took a drink, licking his lips knowingly. He leant toward her; she tilted her head slightly, inviting him closer. Gene's lips brushed hers...

Gene watched her sleep; her head tipped back, lips slightly parted. She let out a soft sigh and shuffled a little in her seat. She looked so sweet and gentle, thankfully quiet, not shouting at him for a change. He felt an overwhelming urge to reach across and touch her, feel the warmth of her skin, brush back her soft brown curls, even kiss her. He wondered what she was dreaming about, it looked like she found whatever it was pleasant, more than likely it was some posh tosser or another. He was distracted, needed to stop; stretch his legs and get some air. The familiar rumble of hunger in his stomach made his mind up. The turn off to the services was coming up; he indicated and pulled onto the slip road. He could just imagine Bollinger Knickers' response to the greasy road side transport cafe; she'd turn her pretty little nose up no doubt. Nor was he keen on a set of rowdy truck drivers eyeing her up, and slobbering all over her.

Alex was suddenly jolted awake, realising that they had come to a sudden halt. She brushed her lip with her fingertips, slowly recalling the images that her subconscious had conjured up. It was a silly dream, nothing more, her cheeks flushed a little and she avoided eye contact. Even in a dream it had sent a bolt of electricity through her. She wrestled with her own thoughts, unwilling to acknowledge that it was what she wanted, hoped for, didn't dare to hope for.

"Where are we?" she asked, still bleary eyed and wondering how long she had slept.

"Breakfast time, Bolls," he said merrily, looking forward to the usual fare these places served.

Alex looked at her watch, "it's gone one," she said, still not fully in tune with Gene's skewed version of meal times.

"It's breakfast all day 'ere... lovely," he said with mounting enthusiasm, his stomach now almost audibly growling for the large fry up that would be waiting inside.

Alex looked at the cafe; it wasn't the most appealing of places to eat, but she was a little hungry. Her mouth felt dry, thirst she hoped, and not a result of any undesirable dreams.

_Please, please, please review..._

**tbc**


	2. I'll bet you hate this

_New chapter, as promised. Thanks so much for reading, putting this on alert and all of the fantastic reviews. I really amazed at such a great response and I hope everyone enjoys the next instalment. Please keep the comments, good or bad coming, they keep me going!_

_I still don't own anything._

**Chapter Two- I'll bet you hate this**

Gene ordered two full English Breakfasts with gusto and joined Alex at the slightly tea stained, plastic table, the surface sprinkled with grains of sugar. Alex was wiping at the Formica with a paper napkin. She scowled at him as he slammed down a mug of tea in front of her, sloshing some of its contents over the newly cleansed table top. He sat down opposite her, and began loading sugar into the strong brew in his mug. Even the sugar in the pot on the table was clumped together and tinged with the shades of many cups of tea and coffee. She eyed her drink with suspicion.

"Get it down yer neck, Bolls, do yer good," her barked, partly amused by her predictable reaction, but it also highlighted just how different they were, she was from another world. You couldn't beat a big fry up from a greasy spoon in his eyes; he didn't have to ask to know it wasn't her sort of place. He concealed the more serious aspects of his thoughts. "Sorry, the A1 branch of Clariges was shut," he said slurping at his tea.

A surly, large waitress with thick forearms slammed down two enormous breakfasts, served on plates the size of bin lids, a sour scowl fixed on her face. She never looked down in the direction of the two diners.

"Service with a smile," Gene said sarcastically, grinning at the woman before tucking into his food. She grimaced and shrugged.

Alex pushed hers around the plate with her folk, urged on by her own hunger and a silent, nodding instruction from Gene to eat up, she tried a piece of bacon, it was greasy and fried.

"Can't stand birds who won't bloody eat, put some decent padding on that bony arse of yours that," he said. She knew his feelings on that subject, he complained incessantly about her posterior, yet always scanned it appreciatively given the opportunity. It puzzled her, it was hardly a compliment. She watched him devouring the breakfast, licking his lips, wiping his mouth, there was something oddly attractive about it. She pressed on with her own meal, consciously changing the subject of her inner thoughts.

"You know, Gene, your cholesterol..."

"Shut up and eat yer breakfast woman," he ordered.

It had not gone unnoticed that she had caught the attention of the truckers in the corner. Gene had noted that they had eyed her as they walked in; it was understandable she was a good looking woman in a place like this; he started to regret bringing her in a little. It annoyed him that they were leering at her like that. It shouldn't, but it did. It annoyed him when anyone looked at her, even more so when it was some smug toff, who would have taken her to some upmarket bistro for smoked salmon, not a wagon driver's breakfast in a grotty roadside cafe. Even so, their increasingly obvious leering and discussions about her wound him up. It was disrespectful, she was clearly with him, only of course she wasn't. She seemed more likely to go with one of them than him.

One of the truckers piped up, "'Ere love, you disappointed with the sausage? 'Cos you can 'ave a bit of mine." The others around the table roared with laughter.

Gene's face was like thunder, planting down his cutlery and moving to stand up. Alex caught his hand, his fist already clenched in anger. The contact made him tense up even more, she felt it too. Her eyes met his over the heavily heaped plates.

"Leave it...please, Gene," she implored him, it didn't seem worth it, rising to the bait would only amuse them further.

He considered it for a moment, and settled back into his chair, glancing down at her hand on his. She felt embarrassed, pulled her hand away as if the contact with his skin had burnt her. Suddenly they were both uncomfortable, and ate the rest of the meal making small talk, punctuated by Gene occasionally pausing to give a stare of warning to the HGV driver. It amused her a little, his outrage at smutty innuendo was a case of pots and kettles, he didn't really have the moral high ground, and yet his defence of her was almost touching.

"Come on then, Georgie boy is waiting," said Gene, still sour at letting the insult pass. He rose to his feet. As Alex stood up to follow him toward the door, the mouthy trucker reached out, pinching her arse. She turned slowly to face the lecherous groper, thankfully in between him and Gene. A comment, words they were one thing, putting his hands on her was another matter entirely. She smiled broadly and beckoned him toward her. The men around the table whooped and cheered. Gene looked on, unsure what was coming next, in two minds whether to wade in and deal with it in his own way. He certainly would enjoy taking that scrawny toe rag down a peg or two. The trucker stood up. He was considerably shorter than Alex, his long, lank, greasy hair poking out from under a cap.

"Come on, don't be shy, I've got something for you," she said. Gene was open mouthed, what the hell was she doing?

He shuffled forward. Once he was in range, Alex drew back her fist, striking him on the chin and sending him reeling. He clutched his face, muttering as the others erupted into loud roars of laughter, almost rolling off their chairs and banging the palms of their hands down in a drum roll of appreciation, making the plastic table shake. She turned, raising her eyebrows to a stunned Gene as she passed him to leave. He shrugged his shoulders and followed her out.

"Bloody nutter," shouted the man, both his chin and his ego having been battered once already, he had waited until they were safely outside, regretting speaking at all in case Gene decided to come back and finish what Alex had started.

"We 'aven't even got there yet, and yer've gone native on me already," he said. She never failed to surprise him, and having been on the receiving end of a punch to the face from her before, he knew the man would be feeling it for a good while. He felt a strange sense of pride, she was an awful lot tougher than he had first thought.

* * *

The journey continued, the heavily built up south giving way to open fields, dark, purple hills rising up in the distance, as they crept further north. The awkward silences became more infrequent, the chatter more lively, as, sparked by the road signs pointing to familiar territory, Gene recounted stories of the old days in Manchester. Raids and blags, chases and villains. It was a mixture of shock and amusement to Alex; Gene's methods of policing were a whole world away, even more so it seemed back then. He so rarely talked about his past; it was an usual insight into who he was. She saw a change in his face when he mentioned Sam. So many times she had wanted to ask about him, but knew better than to press the matter, hoping he might eventually open up a little, and she was taken aback that he had suddenly mentioned it, he never did that. She nodded, so much of what he was saying was familiar, known to her, she had written it up from Sam's tapes. He smiled warmly, though hidden in the cloak of humour and boasting about his exploits, it was as if he needed to talk about him, his pedantic attention to procedure, evidence, bloody science.

"Sounds like a good copper to me," she said.

"Almost as bloody annoying as you, Bolly but I suppose he is...was," his voice trailed off, his eyes were dewy, giving away the fact that he was welling up. He avoided eye contact. Alex watched his physical battle to keep a lid on his emotions, his determination not to look like a great big poof in front of her, in front of anyone, directed into his tightening grip on the steering wheel of the Quattro.

"I'm sorry." The words were a poor consolation, the standard, almost automated response to grief. She looked down, churning her mind for something better to say, there was nothing.

"What for? S'not your fault, bloody idiot didn't listen. Never could take orders, bit like you," she detected a faint waiver in his voice. He pondered on his own words, God what if he lost her? If her stubbornness would get her hurt, killed, he chased the idea away, he could not lose her, not Alex, he would always be there to catch her if she fell. Why hadn't he put his foot down, insisted, made him listen.

"It's not yours either, Gene," Alex said softly. She couldn't help herself; she reached out and squeezed his knee. She was reaching out to touch him, reaching out to him to let her in. "It is alright to have feelings you know," it was a plea to open up. He bottled up so much, the only outlet he ever found was anger.

"Shift that 'and a bit higher and I'll be 'aving feelings alright," as if a switch had gone on, Gene reverted to his usual self. In a split second, as if the power had been restored to an electric fence, the defence mechanisms within him kicked in. He demanded that he pulled himself together. It was said in jest, a cheeky get out from her psychiatry bollocks that she would no doubt revert to, but there was more than a hint of truth in it. His eyes fixed on her hand; he focused on the road again. Gulping at the thought of her fingers advancing up his leg, inappropriate as it was, God those hands sliding up his thigh...He shook himself, waste of time even thinking about it, it wasn't going to happen. Even the slightest touch, even as a gesture of kindness stirred up a whole host of feelings, thoughts, he had no idea what he had been thinking, he should have dragged Ray in, he wouldn't have all this hassle if he had.

Alex sighed deeply, why did he do that? Almost let her in and then retreat hastily to Gene Hunt country. She felt certain she would never break down those walls he built around himself. He had admitted once that he was lonely, but it seemed like he chose that path for himself, the door was always locked, bolted shut from the inside. At first she had written him off as a two dimensional Neanderthal, but there was more to him than that, some depth, feelings, buried away inside him somewhere. She rolled her eyes, and withdrew her hand, plagued by the thought that running her hand up his thigh was not at all an unpleasant idea, those two brief moments of physical contact had stirred up feelings she tried hard to repress. She still wasn't sure why she had agreed to this in the first place, she hadn't put up much of a real fight, and she'd packed that dress.

Once again, they were travelling through an urban environment, roads lined with houses and mounting traffic slowed their progress as they made they weaved their way through city streets. Gene checked the instructions scribbled on a scrap of paper, muttering quietly as they made several wrong turns.

"You could just give me the directions," she snapped as he mumbled expletives under his breath, "we're lost aren't we?"

"I am not lost, Drake," he insisted.

"Well where are we then?" Alex demanded.

The car came to an abrupt halt, "we're 'ere," Gene replied with a satisfied smile, all too aware that it had been a case of good fortune, rather than careful planning that had led them there. He almost dared hope his luck might not have run out just yet.

_Tbc soon_

_Let me know what you think!_


	3. No room to move, or try to look away

_Hi everyone, thanks again for all the reviews and reading this. Sorry if I didn't reply to anyone's review last time I haven't been getting alerts and I managed to empty my inbox by mistake, if I did miss anyone thanks for taking the time to review anyway. Hope this is ok and not a bit yawn!_

_I still don't own anything._

**Chapter 3- No room to move, or try to look away**

It was mid-afternoon by the time they drew up at the Pilgrim Street Station. Once inside, Gene marched up to the high, wooden counter, announcing himself to the young WPC on duty at the front desk. She was petite and slender, the height of the desk made her seem even tinier, and she was overly made up, Alex thought. Despite her slight frame, she was incredibly buxom, evident even in the confines of her buttoned up uniform. Smiling broadly she made small talk with Gene, giggling and exuding a chirpy, almost excessively friendly manner, her bouncy ponytail swishing as she spoke, bright blonde hair betrayed by dark roots. Alex observed his easy nature with the girl, as she lapped up his attention and banter. She scowled, scanning the girl up and down, her assessment: all cleavage and teeth, probably very little else of substance. It made her feel uncomfortable, and she felt the sharp stab of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. She rolled her eyes, as the girl fussed and insisted that _he_ really needed a cup of tea after the long drive, and good God did she just call him 'pet'. The girl paid little attention to Alex, who shuffled and eventually forced out a cough to remind Gene she was in the room. He continued regardless.

"I am still standing here," she finally snapped, suddenly a little embarrassed at her own outburst.

"Sorry love, my DI gets 'er posh knickers in a twist. What the bleedin' 'ell's the matter with you Drake?" his tone shifted markedly as he spoke to the two women, from gentle, low and soft, to bark of annoyance. The girl's eyes widened as he spoke, and she surveyed Alex with curiosity.

Right on cue a short, overweight and balding man, somewhere approaching around fifty appeared from a set of double doors, a cigarette hanging limply from the corner of his mouth, as he came closer, his well-loved suit was misted with the faint smell of whiskey. His top button was undone, and his badly knotted tie was slung loosely around his neck. His cheeks were flushed red, his nose even more so. He smiled.

"DCI Blake, Ken. Must be wor colleagues from the Met," he said in his broad Geordie accent, offering his stubby hand out to Gene.

"Gene Hunt," Gene replied, shaking hands firmly in a display of mutual respect. Blake's eyes were drawn immediately to Alex, and he scanned her body, his height placing him at an unfortunate chest level.

"DI Drake, Alex please," she jumped in as politely as she could, hoping to draw his attention to her face as she spoke. He took her hand, holding on to it more lingeringly than she might have liked, she could feel the slightly clammy sheen of sweat on his palm and repressed a grimace.

He turned to face Gene, "well mate ye' must a' done something right 'cos she's a cracker. Where'd ye' get a DI that looks like that?"

Gene grinned, he didn't doubt for a second Alex would have some objection on principle; the bloke was paying her a compliment. He felt a sense of almost pride as he looked at her, she was without question the most beautiful DI he had ever seen, no, more than that she was the best looking woman he had ever seen, quite possibly the moodiest too. She, as he had predicted, looked disgruntled, come to think of it, she'd been in a strop since they'd arrived. He consoled himself with the thought that he would never understand women, especially not her. God knew what he'd done now. He silently admired her for a second longer.

"Believe me, yer won't be saying that when she opens he big posh gob, won't do as she's told" he laughed, her frown deepened, as Gene swept aside his feelings with his usual brand of humour. Blake read the signs when a frosty silence followed, sensing a moment of tension between his visitors and refrained from pushing the issue further.

It was Gene who disturbed the quiet, "right, well, we've come to get Carter."

Blake chuckled, "aye, aye, though if ye' lookin' for the car park, that's Gateshead technically, over the river, not on wor patch."

"So," Alex said resuming her professional manner, "how did you find him up here, know he was wanted in for a crime in London?"

"It was Mason here, keeps an eye on these things, she's a good lass, aren't ye' pet," Blake said in a paternal, but slightly patronising tone, "spotted him in the town, bold as brass out for a pint, nicked him herself." He patted her on the arm, a short step from patting her on the head like an obedient dog or a child. It was a warmer and softer version, but Alex recognised the similarity to Gene's constant underestimation of Shaz. Though Mason smiled sweetly and shrugged in a girlish way, Alex suspected there was a little more to this WPC than her initial assessment had given her credit for. Gene remained oblivious to such considerations.

"He got a bit rough with the lassy, so I've...er put the lad in his place," it was evident what he meant. He may not have looked like Gene, but it was evident that in many ways they had been pressed from the same mould, old fashioned coppers, a dying breed.

A tall, slender man in his early thirties appeared at the door, fashionably dressed and floppy haired. "Hey boss, come to introduce myself to our guests," he flashed a wide smile at Blake, scanned Gene quickly, before zeroing in on Alex. "And who might you be, lovely lady," he said, his accent local, but much softer than that of his older colleague. Gene narrowed his eyes, he disliked the man instantly.

"That's my DI, Newton, bit of a ladies' man mind, I'd keep an eye on him...wi' her," Blake nodded in the direction of Alex. He had spoken quietly, as Newton was busy introducing himself to Alex. She reached out her hand to shake his, but instead he took hold her outstretched hand, and raised it to his lips. Gene watched, his stomach churned, he liked Newton even less. He was just her type. Blake's understanding showed on his face, as if he could read Gene's thoughts.

"I'll get Karen to sort you out," he said pointing in the direction of WPC Mason, waggling his eyebrows at his own innuendo, "there's accommodation sorted, for ye', nice and central, and you'll be wanting a word with the bonny lad in the cells no doubt." Gene had barely paid any attention to what was being said, his eyes firmly fixed on Alex, laughing, seeming to lap up the attention from the young officer. He gritted his teeth, as he seethed with jealousy. He hadn't even had the decency to speak to him; no, he was straight in there, making good progress by the looks of it. It had taken him all of five seconds to totally charm her.

Despite their recent acquaintance, Ken Blake was not oblivious to Hunt's visibly shifting mood. He clearly shared his view of Newton, "told ye', he's a smooth git," he shook his head, "right, I'll have to love ye' and leave ye', give 'es a shout if ye' need anything." With that he disappeared down the corridor, leaving WPC Karen Mason in his place.

She smiled sheepishly, "looks like you've got me then."

Hunt pouted slightly, if Alex was going to be chasing after Newton on this trip, then at least the consolation prize was easy on the eye.

* * *

Gene and Karen were settled down in a slightly untidy and smoky break room with two steaming mugs of strong, sugary tea she had made. He found her pleasant and certainly a lot sharper than he was expecting. She asked a lot questions about the Met, about him, laughed heartily at his quips and comments. In truth he was rather taken by surprise by her apparent interest in him. She was young, attractive, and easy going; he wondered what she saw in him, if anything, maybe he hadn't read it right at all, if she was anything like Alex what she said, did and thought would be a million miles from whatever he expected or understood. They were sorting through transfer papers, sharing a filthy joke she had cracked when Alex and her northern counterpart appeared at the door. The room fell into an awkward silence. Newton had swept her off with some excuse about showing her around the station, a darkened cupboard probably, given half the chance undoubtedly. Alex's eyes darted between Gene and the girl. They seemed uncomfortable at her sudden presence, but as she has opened the door it had been clear that they were very relaxed in each other's company, having fun. She disliked it, hated it, not that she would admit it, they had only known each other for a five minutes. Repressing her feelings, she did her best to fix a smile on her face.

"Guv," she said trying to avoid sounding jealous, "Craig and I thought we'd do a quick interview with Carter now."

Gene's eyes bored into the local DI, who stood with a rather smug expression on his face, leaning around the door frame to move in behind Alex. Gene raised an eyebrow, it was bloody Craig now. "No, Bols, you and I will be doing the interview...'e's not familiar with the case," he snapped.

"Oh I'm sure we can manage, it was our collar, after all, since he gave you the slip," Newton said with a slight sneer and an air of superiority.

"As I 'eard it, it was Karen 'ere's collar," Gene rose to his feet. Karen had put her head down, but bit down on her lower lip in an attempt to stop a fit of laughter escaping, she had clearly enjoyed Newton being taken down a peg or two. "Come on, Bolly, let's see what the scrote has to say for 'imself."

Karen leapt up to her feet, "I'll get ye' an interview room, and have him sent along," evidently still savouring Gene's victory over her senior officer. Alex felt vindicated; there he was jumping to defend a girl he barely knew. She sighed and followed him down the hall. Karen had slipped in front and was chattering at Gene. Newton beamed at her.

* * *

They got nothing from Carter, both had expected as much, he claimed he was innocent repeatedly; Gene got irritated and banged his fist against the desk. The blagger demanded a lawyer, said no comment far too many times to count. Once Gene became bored, he had summoned for him to be returned to the cells.

"So Bolly," he said leaning in closely, "you better unpack whatever it is that's slutty, think it's about time we got to this 'otel, you got scrubbed up and we found a pub," he looked intently at her, with the expectation he was about to be slapped down. Alex was confused, he hadn't seemed too concerned about her earlier, disappearing with that young woman. Maybe she had got it wrong. She rolled her eyes, best seem less than enthusiastic, she thought. He leaned a little closer; his eyes twinkled, her mind drifting back to her dream. Her mouth was dry; it was the way he looked at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but before the words could come out, another voice filled up the silence. It came from the door way to the interview room.

"Night out, brilliant, I'll show you all the best places in the city, meet you at the hotel at seven," it was DI Newton.


	4. Oh you've got green eyes

_Hi all, this is a double posting as these chapters go together. I have tried something a bit different with the times, so please let me know if you think it works, reviews always very much appreciated. Thanks to everyone who has been reading/reviewing and putting this on alert. WARNING these two chapters are very, very smutty, please don't read if you are offended by explicit content or swearing. It also came to me after I had written this that I had read something which dealt with a similar ahem theme, so I apologise for any similarities, none intended._

_I still don't own anything!_

_Enjoy :)_

**Chapter Four- Oh you've got green eyes**

_Room 32 5.06pm_

Gene opened the door to his room, threw down his bag violently and slammed the door behind him. The room was pleasant enough, clean and well decorated, its own bathroom to the left, a large, sprawling double bed in the centre, not much point in that the way things were going. Fucking Newton, smooth tosser, moving in, inviting himself out where he wasn't wanted. He was just her type, full of himself, full of shit more like. The evening had suddenly lost its appeal, sitting there watching him hump her leg, her lapping it up. He felt like getting a bottle of scotch, or two and drinking them alone in his room, but he couldn't very well turn around and say he wasn't going after he'd pushed the issue so much, then he really would look like a prize fool. He cursed under his breath as he flicked on the bathroom light and turned on the taps to run himself a bath.

Oh she'd shag city boys, poncy lawyers, even that smart arse DI was in with a good shout after five minutes, but it was time he got a grip and understood Alex Drake was never, ever going to sleep with him, or at least not sober. He'd rather do without than be her drunken shame, hounded out in the morning. There had been those moments, opportunities, alcohol-fuelled instants, where he'd imagined it, she'd as much as suggested it, but was too drunk to know what the hell she wanted. Some arse like Newton wouldn't care about that; probably double up her drinks to make sure. That settled it; he'd have to go and keep an eye on her, or more to the point Detective Inspector Sleaze, as painful as it would be to watch and probably have to play gooseberry to those two. Of course he looked at film stars, girls in magazines he'd loved to get his hands on and knew he never would, but he didn't have to watch anyone else get their claws into them, work with them every day, drink with them, they didn't give him half a hope and snatch it away, they didn't make him feel so bloody inadequate and he didn't... He shook himself and checked on his bath, the small bathroom was filling up with steam; he rubbed at the misted mirror and stared at his own blurred reflection, swiftly wishing he hadn't. No wonder she wasn't interested.

That brass from the station, he should have asked her to come along, see how Drake liked it. Probably wouldn't have even noticed. Now a bird like that, good looking, young, willing, once upon a time he'd have been all over her like fleas on a stray dog. Not now, there was nothing wrong with her, far from it, pleasant, funny, she just wasn't her. He was irritated at himself, to get this worked up over a mouthy, posh tart, he'd never lost this much sleep over the former Mrs Hunt, he'd never lost any sleep over her when he thought about it. Christ even Chris had found a decent woman who was willing to tolerate him. There was Ray, flying the flag for the single man, but that thought did little to improve his mood, trawling the bars hunting for skirts with him until they were too old to make it round without a carer to help them to the gents, it was a grim future.

His bath now full, he shed his clothes and settled down into the hot water. He stretched out his long legs that ached a little from the drive and tipped his head back, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. He could see Newton's smug expression as he took hold of her hand, at the risk of looking like a jealous nutter, he should have twated him there and then, he might yet before the night was out. It was obvious just what he thought about him, some past it, old fart, no threat to him and his lecherous plans. He ducked his head under the water for a moment, holding his breath, hoping when he emerged he would have washed those images away. It did little good, he could only see those huge eyes, the light dancing on the flecks of green in the iris, he'd know those beautiful eyes if he had to pick them out of a thousand pairs. He swept his wet hair back and pressed his palm against his forehead, "fucking women," he muttered to himself.

* * *

_5.40pm_

Gene was out of the bath and had secured a fluffy, white towel around his waist. He'd heard the shower flick on through the wall; this was a torment he was not expecting. Their rooms were next door to each other, the bathrooms were separated only by a thin wall. He knew she was naked not even a foot away from him, the image of the hot water trickling down her bare flesh filled his mind, he tried to push it aside, but it was a futile exercise, the mental picture of her body, soapy and slippery would not be banished. He felt the growing tension in his hips and a tingle in his balls as he grew hard at his own vision of his naked, soapy DI. He gulped at his own thoughts, it was no good, his mind was stuck on her, drifting back to the way she had looked the first time he had ever laid eyes on her. The sight of her in that tiny red skirt, stretched tautly across her perfectly formed arse, so short the lace at the top of her stockings was on show. The low cut of the top giving teasing glimpses of her perfect tits. God he had touched her, groped her even, to get his hands on her like that again would be something. He pictured her sitting on the small sofa in his hotel room, dressed like that, slowly and suggestively sliding her tongue over her full red lips, then inch by inch parting her legs, beckoning him towards her, begging, needing him, whispering huskily that she wanted him. Unable to hold back any longer, he discarded the damp towel and reached down taking hold of his growing erection, as his urgent need for her took over his body. He pictured her wearing nothing but full makeup and the sparkling diamonds she had been wearing that first time, laid on the pale fur of that coat, writhing, inviting him to touch her. He drew in his breath sharply with his first full stroke, reaching to cup and massage his balls with his other hand.

He was stood by the bed, he could only dream that she was there now, kneeling before him, her mouth open, wantonly and willingly waiting for him to fill it, the green flecks in her huge, wide eyes sparkling up at him, that she would never break eye contact as she took him into her mouth. As his speed increased to match his excitement, he sensed it would be over all too soon and paused for a second, his chest pounding. He wanted to savour every second of those delicious thoughts, needed to be able to imagine what it would be like to fuck her, feel her heat around him. He tightened his grip, running his hand up and down his hard shaft; it was a pale imitation of the way it would feel to be inside her. His pace quickened again as he pictured her on all fours, looking back at him over her shoulder, murmuring unspeakable filth at him, demanding to be fucked. He felt like he might burst now, faster and faster until he felt the first drops of his release. He forced out her name through gritted teeth as he came, emptying his frustration out of his body. His heart was still pounding; he had needed it more than he thought. Gene collapsed back onto the bed limply as he felt himself soften, satisfied and relieved. He lay still for a moment as his breathing returned to normal, it was almost six, he supposed he should tidy himself up and get a drink before that twat turned up at seven.

* * *

_6.35pm_

Gene sat on the edge of the bed. He was dressed and had shaved, not that it had been an easy task, his hand still shaking slightly at the thought of Alex, he had nicked his skin, bright red splashes of blood bouncing off the pristine white basin. He had sworn in irritation and was now removing the scrap of tissue he had used to stem the flow. Straightening his red tie and then smoothing down the clean, black shirt he had put on before, shrugging on his jacket, he stopped and examined himself in the mirror, checking his teeth and polishing them with his tongue. Finally sweeping his fingers through his hair, he decided he would have to do; still dreading whatever flash and trendy get up Newton would turn up in.

He reached into his coat pocket taking out his hip flask and took a large swig of whiskey to settle himself down. He lit a cigarette and took deep draws as he contemplated the evening ahead, that no doubt would be ruined by Newton's presence, then again he knew he was kidding himself, it wouldn't have made any difference to the outcome other than he'd have at least put her to bed in a drunken stupor if they had been alone, rather than having to see off a sleazy Geordie DI first. He sighed and stubbed out his cigarette, better make his way downstairs. He had said he'd meet Alex in the lobby, if he went now, he might have time for another quick drink before she appeared and since he suspected he was in for a long and uncomfortable evening, every one helped.


	5. Oh you've got blue eyes

_As with the previous chapter please be warned very, very smutty, please don't read if offended by such content. _

**Chapter Five- Oh you've got blue eyes**

_Room 34 5.07pm_

Alex let herself into her room; she was next door to Gene. He'd barely said two words to her on the way to the hotel, and was grateful it turned out to be only minutes from the station. What the hell was his problem, she really didn't know. All of the time they'd been there he'd barely taken a blind bit of notice of her, far too wrapped up in that WPC to even realise she was standing there, he'd left her with Newton. He'd certainly taken notice of Mason alright, eyeing her up, she was far too young for him and she'd felt better when she'd thought she was just some useless blonde airhead, but by the sounds of it she was Tyneside's answer to superwoman, apprehending Carter single handed no doubt in stilettos and without breaking a nail. Alex scowled and put her bag down on the bed, unpacking her things neatly and carefully. Why the hell had she brought this bloody dress? She felt like a total idiot now, wished she could think of an excuse not to go, but she'd only get some remark about being 'on the blob' or something else equally ridiculous. At least if Craig turned up she wouldn't get so drunk and end up throwing herself at her disinterested DCI. That really would top the evening off just perfectly. She'd been grateful for his presence in the station today; otherwise she would more than likely have still been standing at the desk waiting for Gene to pick his tongue up off the floor. Ok he was a little, well, full on, but he'd saved her from being totally abandoned. Christ, Hunt had even snapped at her for offering to get on with the interview, she couldn't win and since he was barely speaking to her, she was unlikely to find out what his problem was.

Alex stared at the dress and shoes again, it was far too much, but she had nothing else so she'd have to wear it. Sighing with resignation, she decided to take a shower, wash off the day and the try and clear her head. She took a coat hanger from the wardrobe and hung the dress up in the bathroom, using the steam of the shower to smooth out any creases. She undressed and stepped under the hot stream of water, running her fingers through her hair and closing her eyes. He was all she could think about; she was being a foolish, jealous idiot. Why he had to bring her here was beyond her, evidently there was no one else, must have had no choice. She was angry at herself for feeling this way. All of those nice, eligible young men in the world and he was inside her head, invaded her dreams, made her behave like an over eager teenager, and why? It was obvious he didn't want her. She scrubbed the shampoo vigorously into her scalp hoping to scrub out all of the thoughts going round in her head. The way the room fell silent when she'd walked in on him and Mason, that look he'd given her in the interview, that look, from those beautiful blue eyes, shining at her, boring into her soul making her throat dry and her knees weak. She scrubbed at her hair even harder. "Bloody man," she said aloud through gritted teeth.

* * *

_5.40pm_

Alex heard the sound of the water gurgling down the plug hole in the bathroom next door as she dried herself and wrapped one towel around her body and knotted another around her hair, it was his bathroom. An image flashed into her mind of Gene, wet hair, naked, laid out in the bath. It had been a long time since anyone had touched her, far too long. When she'd first arrived the belief that none of it was real had allowed her to be much more casual than she might have chosen to be otherwise. Over time, her interest had dwindled, empty sex held less and less appeal. Even her encounter with her Thatcherite friend in his ridiculous 1980s city boy braces hadn't been all it might have been, although she had been sure to exaggerate her enjoyment of the evening to her colleagues, if only to silence their archaic objections. He had been the sort of man who liked to do it in front of the mirror, so he could watch himself, and see just how amazing he was, or at least believed himself to be, completely in love with himself in fact.

Alex let out a deep sigh, still thinking about the idea of Gene Hunt outstretched in the bath next door. It stirred feelings within her, made the core of her turn to hot, molten liquid. She perched on the bed, shuffling uncomfortably and fixing her towel in place, tugging it tightly as if the restriction would somehow repress the now quickening rise and fall of her chest. The feel of the soft, fluffy fabric between her fingers only fuelled a fervent imagination, as she pictured him in nothing but a towel, loosely knotted at his waist, his hair still damp and swept back from his face, then the towel falling... It was an irresistible image, which drew out of her an involuntary ache, a familiar twitch between her legs. With almost resignation, she accepted it was a need, a necessity, an uncontrollable urge that if left unsatisfied would torment her all night. She lay back on the bed, finally allowing her vice-like grip on the towel to relax, pushing it aside. She closed her eyes, and as she had done a hundred times before and allowed her mind to drift to him, as it always did. No matter how hard Alex fought it, it was always him, even when she battled with determination to focus on someone else; it was a futile exercise, as in seconds an image of Brad Pitt would be rapidly replaced by the familiar face of her DCI.

She gave in to it, biting her lip as she allowed herself to imagine him kissing her, first softly, and then fiercely, almost convincing herself that it was his hand, and not hers sliding down her body, finding her wet and ready. Her breath was shallow, as her own fingers teased expertly at her clit, she wished for his long, perfect fingers to be there instead, that he would touch her like this, lick her, fuck her. She slid her fingers inside, working them in and out, at first in a slow and steady rhythm, lost in her own fantasy. Her pace quickened, as a wicked thought danced through her mind, that the door would burst open and he would see her like this, know the depth of her desire and waste no time in satisfying her, that just the sight of her laid there like that would have made him hard and she would be rewarded with him thrusting deep inside her. She added another finger, in the frustration that it would not adequately simulate the intense feeling of being filled that she knew he could give her. She was close now, her pace quickened as a warm tingle spreading out from the pit of her stomach, down her now twitching thighs as she bucked against her own fingers, if only she could feel his weight baring down on her, feel the warmth of him against her skin, inhale his familiar masculine scent. She whispered his name, like a siren's call, willing him to hear her desperate plea and be there now, those knowing eyes scanning her body, burning with desire, the way he looked at her, the memory of those precious glances where she almost believed he was thinking the same thoughts as she was now, it was enough to tip her over the edge. With one last whisper of his name, she fought for breath as she reached a shuddering climax.

She lay on the bed, still and silently for a moment, as she floated back down to earth, then as if she had hit the ground with a thud a sudden empty feeling hollowed out her insides with the realisation that it was not real. Her cheeks were flushed, partly from the shame of her own thoughts. She had to stop thinking these things, doing this; it wasn't going to ever be anything more than a dream, a fantasy, not even a wanted one most of the time. She glanced at the clock; it was almost six, time she made a start with getting ready if Newton was turning up at seven. She let out a long, sad sigh and glanced through the open door at the dress, still hanging patiently in the bathroom, he would notice, he would comment and that would be it. Suddenly feeling exposed, Alex dragged the towel back around her and fought the first prickles of tears, she could at least look good tonight, and was thankful for the chaperone.

* * *

_6.45pm_

Alex smoothed down her hair and concentrated on applying the finishing touches to her makeup, selecting a smoky eye shadow and a thicker than usual stroke of black eyeliner. She reapplied the blusher to the apples of her cheeks for the third time, and finally added a subtle shade of lipstick to avoid over doing it and looking like an over painted clown. Her black underwear and stockings already on, it only left the dress. The steam from the shower had thankfully had the desired effect and it was free of creases. She stepped into it carefully, it was fitted tightly at the waist, with a slash neck and the black fabric was gathered at the heavily padded shoulders. It was plain, bar a line of large, clear rectangular stones set around the neckline. It also seemed shorter than Alex has remembered it, only just concealing the lace at the top of her stocking. She zipped it up as far as she could manage; she supposed Gene would finish it up for her, though the thought of his breath against her neck and her reaction to it worried her a little. Finally stepping into the black stilettos and adding large, crystal drop earrings she was ready.

She sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment, wrestling the temptation to hang the expense and down the contents of the mini bar to settle her nerves. She thought better of it, the whole idea was not to get drunk and make a fool out of herself. She had no idea what to expect, in her own time Newcastle was a thriving party city, renowned for its lively bars and clubs, a popular destination for hens and stags from all around the country, in 1982, she had no idea what things would be like, at least Newton might have some idea where to go, she visualised Gene holing up in a Working Men's club for the night. But then, she'd have gone along with it anyway. She picked at her nails, the red digits on the alarm clock blinked at her, it was time to go.

_Tbc review pretty please with a cherry on top!!!_


	6. Sometimes the dreams are better

_Hi all! An update as promised, it's a bit of a setting things up bit, so hope no one falls asleep in this one, there will be a pay off I promise! Thanks for reading, all the fab reviews and to everyone who has put this on alert. Hope you are still enjoying it._

_Still own nothing. _

**Chapter 6- Sometimes the dreams are better**

Gene paced the floor in the hotel lobby. If he walked up and down much longer he'd wear a hole in the carpet, it was almost seven now and patience wasn't a virtue he'd been blessed with. He hoped Alex would hurry up and with any luck he could sweep her off before Newton arrived. Aware that he was drawing unnecessary attention with his constant patrolling, he planted himself on a plush sofa. Sinking down into the comfortable seat he lit a cigarette and waited. He was just debating the merits of slipping into the bar and ordering a large scotch, when Craig Newton swept in through the grand glass doors into the lobby. Now he was on the scene he would stay put, or else he might come back to find that his rival had come up with a similar plan and had disappeared with Alex. Gene nodded grumpily, a reluctant acknowledgement of the arrival. He thought he looked a prat, dressed a little like Chris in tight, white jeans that hugged his slender frame and a matching white jacket. The only hint of colour was a bright red belt. He was unsure whether he looked like he was dressed like a bird or was just a trendy wanker.

"Gene, glad you could make it," he said sarcastically, a disingenuous grin spread across his face. Before DCI Hunt could correct his over familiarity, his attention was drawn to the grand, sweeping staircase leading down into the lobby from the rooms above, with its heavily patterned carpet of rich reds and greens and its smooth, curving mahogany banister. Something, someone overshadowed its elegance. His throat grew raspy and dry, as his eyes darted up and down the striking figure of a woman, from the high heels, up the sheer stocking-clad legs and over the figure hugging dress that emphasised a stunning silhouette. Her long crystal drop earrings twinkling in the light cast down from a rather grand chandelier. He had to concentrate just to prevent his mouth from falling open at the sight of her.

Alex smiled and shrugged almost shyly. Gene went to pull himself to his feet, but before he had even stood up, Newton had steamrollered past him, placing himself as a physical barrier between Gene and Alex. "Did it hurt?" Newton said, eyeing her up, craning his neck obviously to inspect her closely. Alex looked at him perplexed. Gene grimaced, knowing fine well what was coming next, a bloody awful school boy chat up line. "When ye' fell from heaven," he explained, gushing further, "ye' look absolutely gorgeous." Alex forced a polite smile, God if his lines got any worse she had no idea how she'd get through dinner with a straight face or without a sick bucket.

Gene had turned away and lit a cigarette, unwilling and unable to watch the ensuing car crash before his eyes. Newton's flattery was insistent and seemingly endless and all Alex could muster was a rather meek thank you. Hunt gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment as he inhaled, it was going to be a long night, and not in the way he had hoped. In the meantime, Alex was watching him. Her heart sank, he hadn't even noticed, not said a word, barely given her a second glance and yet all of this was at his request. She felt a heavy thud of disappointment inside, but resolved to enjoy her evening. Conscious that the zip at the back of her dress was not fully up and with Gene still evidently disinterested, she would have to ask Craig to help her with it. She felt slightly uncomfortable, he was a virtual stranger, but no less uncomfortable than if it had been Gene so close to her, touching her in a way that although perfectly innocent, seemed intimate, it was just for very different reasons. "Could you...erm my zip," she signalled to her back nervously.

"Nee bother at all, darlin'" he said stepping in with glee. He shot Gene a smug look as he pulled up the last couple of inches of the zip, inching steadily into Alex's personal space. Gene scowled and rolled his eyes, balling his fist and doing all he could not to knock him out there and then. He thought better of it, he would only get an outpouring of sympathy from Drake and probably get invited up to her room to 'recover' and there was no way he was helping that smug git out in any way, bastard could do his own spade work, preferably on his own grave.

"Well now lovely lady, dinner awaits. It's the best restaurant in town, and only the best is good enough for ye'," he said almost forcefully taking her by the arm and leading her out through the doors. Gene didn't move for a moment, he let out a long sigh, the charming sod was full of it.

"Gene are you coming?" she called back over her shoulder, as Newton picked up his pace and Alex felt as if she was being dragged off, trying to pull on her fur coat as he refused to pause, determined in his mission to hopefully lose Gene along the way and get her to himself. Everything inside him wanted to shout no or piss off, but with resignation and a sense of responsibility to keep an eye on her; he followed them out onto the busy city centre street.

The restaurant was only a short walk away, but Gene already felt like a third wheel, purposely walking a pace behind. His eyes drifted to Alex's arse as she wiggled her way down the street. A rowdy crowd of local football fans spilled out of a bar, black and white scarves waving, chanting, "Toon Army" over and over again. The hoard of drunken, lairy men made wolf whistles and cat calls as they spied Alex and were sent into a frenzy, like a pack of rabid dogs. Overwhelmed by the need to wade in and defend her, in spite of her ability to handle herself that she had demonstrated earlier in the day, he strode forward, glaring at the crowd angrily. The lads had intended no harm and the drunken supporters held up their hands in a wordless apology, clearing the path for Alex to pass unmolested. Newton, who had done very little, other than ducking away from confrontation, jumped on the situation. "Now lads, howay, leave the lady be," claiming the credit for their readiness to back down as his own.

Continuing down the street, Craig pointed out the local sights, apparently wowing Alex with his local knowledge of the city. From time to time she looked back at Gene, inviting him to comment and doing her best to engage him in the conversation, he grunted brief or sarcastic responses. His mood had clearly not improved any since they had left the station, so she was at least grateful for someone to talk to, even if he was a touch annoying at times. She tried her best to listen and seem enthusiastic, but Gene's disgruntlement bothered her. As far as she was aware she hadn't done anything wrong, and couldn't understand why he was in such a foul mood, perhaps if that WPC had turned up with Craig he would have brightened up. Trying not to dwell on her feelings about that she continued to chatter with Newton until they came to a halt outside a small restaurant, an awning striped with red, white and green clearly signalled an Italian.

"Mario's, best in town," her guide informed her, "we're not booked in, and it does get busy, but don't worry I know the owner very well, I'm sure I can pull a few strings and get us in." He winked at her. She imagined her probably brought a lot of girls here on dates and said the same thing. Alex giggled at the name of the establishment, more so when through the window she could see the proprietor, a shorter, fatter version of Luigi. Craig disappeared inside and could be seen through the window making excessive gestures of friendship toward the staff.

Finally alone, Alex tested Gene. She looked up coyly at him. "Well," she said, tugging at her hem and swaying slightly in a girly manner, nibbling at her lower lip. Annoyed as she was with him, she couldn't help herself. He looked so handsome, the faint scent of his aftershave drifting in the breeze. She scanned his stubborn face for a sign she was forgiven, wondering if he was still brooding about that girl.

"Yeah, smashing, Bols," he replied, unable to look at her, she knew fine well that she looked damn sexy, Christ, Newton had told her about twenty times.

Alex fought back the disappointment, reading only disinterest. She tried again, "slutty enough?" pressing for some sort of reaction. He pouted, forced to examine her appearance, trying not to allow himself to be consumed by his earlier thoughts. He could see Newton making his way back through the restaurant, he wasn't sure he could stand a whole night like this, looking at her dressed like that, being voluntarily pawed at by him.

"Yer know, if yer want me to bugger off...yer should say so," he looked at his feet, not wanting to hear the response.

"Of course I don't, why would I? This was your idea and you are not ducking out on me now." She reached out and without thinking touched his arm, squeezing it slightly in an act of reassurance. He looked down at her hand. She could feel the warmth of his body through his jacket, misinterpreting his eyes on her hand as a sign to let go, and she snatched it away as if a mouse trap had gone off and she were saving her fingers from its grasp. There was an awkward moment, broken by Newton beckoning them inside and Alex followed his instruction, relieved by the escape route. Gene fell behind again.

"A table for two?" the owner questioned, in what Alex suspected was at the very least an exaggerated accent for the benefit of his customers.

"Three," Alex jumped in, before Craig could answer, and smiled back at Gene.

* * *

As they say down to dinner, Gene wasn't sure why she seemed so insistent on having him there, she had hardly taken a blind bit of notice of him, not that Newton had paused for breath to allow anyone else to get a word in edgeways, he did like to talk about himself.

"So have ye' been to Newcastle before, Alex?" Newton said, finally inviting someone else to speak and leaning in towards her, having leapt in and secured the chair next to her, leaving Gene to sit opposite them.

"Yes, just once though, it was a while ago now, a hen weekend," Alex pondered for a second what 'a while ago' actually meant, realising it was a considerable distance in the future to the other diners.

"A whole bloody weekend, must 'ave been gutted to be getting married, understandable that I suppose," said Gene.

"You know, you are so cynical, Gene," her attention drawn away from Newton's chatter and giving him an affectionate kick under the table.

Not to be left out for long, Craig continued to question her about her visit to the area. "Do ye' have friends or family up here then?" he asked.

"No, no, travelled up from London, just...fancied a change. It was hilarious or embarrassing, well both I suppose, the fancy dress theme was naughty school girls," it suddenly occurred to her that the trend for stag and hen trips away was probably quite unheard of in the early eighties. Gene's eyebrows shot up as he tried hard not to imagine the scene. It didn't go unnoticed. Alex flashed him a smile and found her foot returning to his leg under the table, only this time she did not find herself kicking him, but slipping her foot out of her shoe and sliding her stocking-covered toes up the back of his calf. Gene almost spat his drink out across the table. She slithered her foot up and down, he stared into her eyes, confused, but pleased with her actions and the pleasant effect it was having. He shuffled in his seat. Craig was chattering away, seemingly oblivious to what was going on in front of his eyes. She nibbled playfully at her lower lip, winding a finger round a loose curl and stroking at the stem of her wine glass suggestively. Gene felt the familiar ache of arousal, watching her fingers on the glass intently, then returning his gaze to meet hers.

"Eh, Alex?" Newton enquired at the end of his extended explanation of various stag dos he'd been on and what a marvellous police officer he was. She hadn't heard a word he'd said, too engrossed in her game of footsie, watching Gene gulp and swallow, as her teasing foot crept higher. When he got no response, Newton pressed again, "Alex" this time louder and more insistently, nudging her arm.

"Yes, yes," she smiled and agreed, suddenly realising what she was doing, staring down at her wine glass and questioning whether agreeing to Craig's suggestion of another bottle for the table was a wise decision. She stopped abruptly, finally breaking eye contact with Gene and looking down nervously. She reprimanded herself, the whole point was to bring someone else along, not get pissed and certainly not throw herself at her DCI. Straightening herself up in her chair, she turned her attention to their local companion, his banal conversation a welcome distraction from her thoughts.

The meal was over, nothing to rival the scallops and pineapple rings, but there was very little of the authentic Italian food that Luigi would make just for Alex. Gene stood up suddenly. "Where are you going?" Alex stuttered slightly on her words, worried she had done something to upset him again.

"For a piss, Bolly," he said sharply, giving Newton a warning glare to behave himself in his absence. He was loathed to leave them, but nature called.

Once he had disappeared safely in the direction of the gent's Craig wasted no time. "He doesn't like me very much does he?" clearly playing for sympathy and prying a little.

"He's just...you know, protective, he's really nice when you get to know him," attempting to be more tactful than the obvious 'no' that sprung to mind, it was clear that he didn't like the man at all, though she was surprised at his restraint in not showing it as openly as he might have done.

"Are ye' an' him...?" the nod of his head signalled exactly what he was implying.

"No, no, no...were not... God, no," she was protesting too much and silenced herself from digging a deeper hole and ending up explaining to a total stranger just how much she wanted the answer to that question to be yes.

He pounced on the opportunity, edging closer, misreading her insistent denial as a signal that she was available...to him. "So, Alex, how do ye' fancy going on to a club? Don't know if it's ye' thing, but New Order's playin' at the Mayfair tonight. Not got tickets, but I know the lads on the door, not a problem." He grinned hopefully. It was too much to resist, what an opportunity, to hear them singing those eighties classics, live, actually in the eighties, soaking up the atmosphere, the fashions. Sorry that she had not made the most of her time there more often, she could hardly refuse. Gene was returning from the bathroom, scowling at the apparent closeness of Newton and his DI.

"You'll come won't you Gene?" he tried to avoid the irony of that sentence in light of his early evening activities.

"Where, Bols?" to bed with her would be an ideal answer.

"A club Craig knows, New Order are playing there tonight. Come on it'll be fun."

He struggled to visualise anything 'Craig' liked would be much fun for him, wanting to mentally waggle his fingers when he thought about his name the way she did when she wanted to wind him up. "Who the 'ell are they?" he asked, wishing he hadn't as Newton smirked.

"You know, most of them were in Joy Division," she explained with enthusiasm. He still looked blank. "You know the song in the car on the way up here," suddenly unconvinced that would sell it to him, and conscious it sounded like she was virtually begging him to go. It wouldn't be the same without him, a real 1980s experience without Gene wouldn't seem right somehow, and she told herself it was for no other reason. He snarled, it wasn't his cup of tea at all, but he was even less keen on the thought of leaving her. Whatever she was playing at under the table suggested to him she was pissed already. She looked at him pleadingly; there was something unnaturally sexy about that look in her eyes. He shuddered to send those ideas away.

"It's probably not ye' scene anyway mate, younger, cooler crowd," Newton chimed in, arrogantly anticipating a victory. It had the opposite effect, making him determined not to be shown up and again holding back on wrapping his fist around the younger man's smug face.

"Right then Bolly, New Division it is." She grinned eagerly, instantly feeling silly and reigning in her excitement. "Lead on," he said ushering a sour-looking Newton out of the restaurant.

_Tbc_

_More soon! _

_Please keep those reviews coming, they really are appreciated._


	7. Another picture

_Update as promised. This was another toughie to write, so I hope it's ok. More angst I'm afraid, sorry, sorry I know, keep promising a pay off and there will be very, very soon! Thanks so much for all your reading, reviews, alerts and continued support, it always makes my day to read the fab feedback. I hope I have done the beloved Mayfair justice, the Gate sucks, flatten it and rebuild the old place I say!_

_I don't own anything, including the song titles/lyrics by New Order that appear in chapter titles etc. All songs mentioned were played at this gig, which again I am borrowing!_

**Chapter 7- Another picture, but the scene it's still the same**

It was raining outside as they left the restaurant and made their way along the busy city centre street. A young couple rowed noisily outside a chip shop, groups of young men jostled and joked, couples huddled together to keep dry. A substantial queue was snaking its way down the street, the waiting crowd nestled against the buildings that lined the pavement for shelter. The smell of frying onions from a burger van wafted down the road. Newton was yet again dragging Alex down the path; virtually yanking her arm out of the socket, nodding and greeting various people as he rushed past them. Gene was confused. He scanned the row of youths in loud, fashionable clothing, and guessed they were heading to the same place, though they seemed to have long since passed the beginning of the line. He was unsure how he fitted in to this evening's plan. He was hardly typical of the clientele; Alex was yet again being swept off by that arsehole, yet insisted on his presence. It was easiest to assume she was pissed and didn't know what the hell she wanted.

"We're here," Craig said theatrically gesturing towards the entrance to the Mayfair, its name spelt out in pink neon above a covered entrance way. He led Alex up the steps towards the dark doorway, flashing his warrant card and sharing a brief joke with one of the burly doormen. Gene could see him conveniently producing two tickets from his jacket pocket, he was certain there wouldn't be a third for him. Alex was inside the doors by the time she managed to wriggle free from Craig and could look back for Gene, who she presumed was following close behind. The next wave of people was being allowed through the doors into the Box office area, obscuring her view out onto the street. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd for any sign of him.

"Craig, we need to wait for Gene, or go back for him, I can't see him anywhere," Alex pleaded. Craftily, Craig was already handing over their tickets to the rather bored looking girl in the kiosk.

"Ye' should have said, Alex. I've given the tickets in now, lucky I had them though, the laddo on the door says it's a sell out, thought it would be alright, you know three quid on the door, but no ticket, no way. Don't even think I could pull any strings, capacity crowd, fire safety and all that." Alex pressed her face to the glass, peering out into the street; there was no sign of him. Newton smirked to himself, but quickly corrected his expression to one of insincere, grim sympathy before she noticed.

"Probably changed his mind eh? Not really his scene I'm guessing," He slipped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder offering mock comfort. "Come on, we can still have a canny night anyway." His arm was snaking up her back, and she shrugged it away as she repressed the swell of tears. It was hardly wise to wander the streets of Newcastle looking for him. He hadn't even said goodbye. Reluctantly she allowed Craig to take her coat to the quiet cloakroom. "You know it's easy to tell you're from the down south," he said cheerily.

Alex looked at him perplexed. He held up the coat, "local lasses don't tend to wear coats." Craig laughed and she managed a weak, half smile. She did have a vague memory of that when she had been there before. It had been November and despite the howling wind all the women had tottered around the city in little dresses, mostly with bare legs, not a jacket in sight. With reluctance she made her way into the Mayfair Suite, sign posted overhead and illuminated in the signature pink neon. With its heavily patterned carpets and plush wallpaper in clashing colours and designs, Art Deco pictures, angular mirrors and trimmings, the place had an air about it that suggested it had once hosted more elegant and sedate events, most strikingly emphasised by the immaculate polished ballroom floor. A throng of youths were already filling the floor, bobbing to the sounds of 'The Wake' the support act for the evening. Others sat drinking and giggling in the even darker corners at the red seats arranged around shiny tables or in side booths. The air was thick and smoky; it was noisy, dark, the way clubs used to be. A balcony overhead allowed other revellers to look down on the grand dance floor below.

* * *

Gene stood outside in the rain for a moment, wondering what the hell he was doing there. He let out a deep sigh. She had disappeared inside, not even looked back. Resigned to heading back to the hotel alone, drinking himself into a stupor and staggering into an empty bed to sleep it off, he took one last look and grimly turned on his heels heading in the opposite direction to everyone else, making purposeful and angry strides, his head down, taking long drags on a cigarette that provided little comfort.

"Hey, Mr Hunt," a voice hollered from the street ahead. The accent was strong and local, he looked up at the approaching tiny frame of WPC Mason clacking along the pavement in white stilettos, what was pretty much a denim belt masquerading as a skirt and a denim jacket over a white lacy top, the jacket looked as if it wouldn't meet around her vast chest. Her small stature appeared to be doubled by the tremendous volume of her hair, backcombed and hair sprayed to within an inch of its life, in danger of bursting into flames if the cigarette she was holding carelessly wafted any higher. Her makeup was even thicker and brightly coloured than it had been during the day at the station. She was flanked by two similarly dressed, if slightly less attractive companions. "On ye' lonesome, pet?" she said nudging his arm cheerily.

He nodded, "looks that way."

"Oh please don't tell me, ye' haven't left her wi' him, tell 'es ye' haven't?" she said, her eyes wide with shock.

"Who, Drake?" he tried to sound unconcerned, "if yer mean is she in there, with yer mate Newton, then it would seem I 'ave."

Karen shook her head and sighed. "That tosser is not my mate fer starters. What ye' thinking about, leavin' her wi' him?"

"She's a big girl, can 'andle 'erself," he shrugged, and then reflected on just how horrified Karen was at the idea.

"Come on, I'll get ye' in, on your own after that." Before he could lodge any objections the tiny, but determined woman had linked her arm into his and was marching him back towards the club entrance. He found himself being led with an almost sheepish obedience. Karen bounded gleefully up the steps only to be scooped up and swept into the arms of one of the doormen, who with little effort had raised her clean off the ground, her legs swinging in mid-air, the skirt straining to protect her modesty.

"Alright, darling?" he said as he squeezed her in an affectionate bear hug. She planted an exaggerated kiss on his cheek as he set her back down onto her feet.

"D'ye love 'es, Steve?" she asked with a cheeky smile.

"What's the damage? Howay Karen ye' want something, always do when ye' being this nice."

"Four," she said pointing at Gene and her two friends, "and nee queuing up, pretty please." Her demeanour was almost impish, she clearly knew what she was doing and just exactly how to get her way. The bouncer examined Gene with slight suspicion. "Come on Stevie Babes, creepy Craig's abducted his lass."

"The posh, fit lass, aye seen them earlier. Ah go on then, since ye' asked so nicely. One thing though," he said turning to Gene, "if ye' fancy cracking that shithouse, be my guest, but not in the club eh bonny lad?"

Gene nodded in agreement, "fair enough." The doorman admitted them with a smile and a wink at Karen.

* * *

Making the best of the situation, Alex took a large swig of her drink and tried to enjoy the atmosphere. Craig leant closer than was necessary as he chatted and made jokes. Her eye was drawn to a familiar figure moving towards the bar. The warm smile that had involuntarily spread across her face turned quickly to a frown as she realised that Gene was not alone, nor did he appear to be looking for her. A wave of jealousy spread through her body, as she observed him with the girl she quickly recognised from earlier at the station. Attempting to suppress the rising bile, she desperately wanted to turn away but her eyes were fixed on him.

Gene had headed through the crowd in the direction of the neon bar sign. He looked for Alex, but it was hard to see anything in the dark and busy club. Once he reached the long, wooden bar he ordered himself a pint. Karen elbowed him and grinned. "Come on ye' owe me big style, your round I think," she said cheerily and pointed to herself and her two friends.

He sighed and shook his head. "Let me guess, it'll be my round next as well, love and yer all drink doubles." He waved the barmaid in the direction of the girls and handed over a note to cover what they had ordered.

"Nah, triples, but only if someone else is paying." He laughed and once more scanned the room looking for Alex. Sensing he was distracted Karen pointed up at the balcony above, "ye' might want to try from the balcony, best way to find someone. Where I always go if I lose my mates." She patted his arm kindly and he made his way towards first the gents, and then he would head up the stairs to gain a better vantage point. The girls waved and thanked him for the brightly coloured drinks they were sipping through luminous straws, wandering off toward a group of younger lads.

Alex was watching from the other side of the room, could see her touching him, unable to hear what was being said it gave the impression of intimacy. By the time a passing group had moved on and her view was restored Gene had gone, as had Karen. Determined not to let it ruin her evening, or worse cry, she hung on to the thought that it was his loss and if he preferred a twenty-something, bleach blonde tramp, wearing virtually nothing then there was very little she could do about it. She excused herself and headed for the ladies, she needed to regain composure. Once inside the safety of the toilets, she rested her arms on the sink and stared at her own reflection. She had no business being jealous, no right, but she was. She raked angrily in her handbag and reapplied her lipstick and hurried out before she lost herself in her thoughts. Not watching where she was going she turned out of the door back onto the corridor and walked straight out into somebody, the contents of her bag scattering to the floor. "Sorry," she muttered, crouching down and gathering up her possessions. Her eyes met an instantly recognisable pair of cowboy boots; she just had the time to suck in a breath before he joined her picking up the items from her bag.

"'ere," he said pressing the lipstick he had retrieved into her hand. The feeling of his fingers on hers, the warmth of his hand made her heart pound. She looked up slowly, their eyes meeting, sparkling, locked on each other. She shook herself out of it, remembering that he was not there with her.

"Thanks," she said brusquely, snatching her fingers away from him. "Having a good time?" she snapped.

"Could be better, Bols. You and the giant sperm enjoying yerselves?" he asked with a half smirk.

Alex giggled as she visualised Craig in his head to foot white outfit. Gene offered her a hand to help drag her to her feet. She leant back against the vividly patterned wallpaper. Gene pressed his palm flat against the wall just above her shoulder, almost pinning her there."So, Bolly, in the restaurant, what the 'ell was all that about?"

"All what?" she said shrugging, though the flush in her cheeks gave away that she knew fine well what he was talking about.

"Under the table, as I recall your foot was winding its way up my leg," he raised an eyebrow.

"I...I...was just..." she struggled for words as he leaned in closer, his intense stare fell from her eyes to her mouth as she gulped and licked her dry lips, shuffling uncomfortably, virtually squirming at his questioning.

"Just what?" he drew even closer, her breath grew short.

"Alex, there ye' are!" came a shout from Newton, the moment dissolved and Gene drew away. "I see ye' made it then, Gene," his forced smile more of a grimace.

"We should..." Alex pointed, feeling awkward and self-conscious, "it'll be starting soon."

The three of them made their way up to the balcony, securing a place right at the front. The lights dimmed, the dance floor below now full. The crowd cheered as the lights kicked in and New Order played the first track, 'In a lonely place'. Alex often felt that was exactly where she was, her eyes turned to Gene Hunt, smoking irately, her constant, there to save her, always there when she needed him, grumpy and angry, at times she could kill him, but...she sighed. "So, what do you think?" she asked, not holding out much hope for a positive response, judging by his facial expression.

"Can't see what all the fuss is about myself."

"Aw man, they're awesome, we should get down there in amongst it ye' know, Alex," Newton chipped in.

She studied Gene's face, saw no noticeable response. "You coming?" she said tugging at his sleeve.

"Gene Hunt does not dance, especially not to this," he would have felt like an idiot, looking down at the sea of young faces and considering his own. Alex gave him a pouty plea, but he shooed her away, at least he could keep an eye on proceedings from this new vantage point, more precisely keep an eye on Newton, who had quickly seized the opportunity to once more get her alone, hoping that his luck wasn't out just yet.

The crowd were cheering the end of the first song, and the second had just kicked in. "Chosen Time," Craig said, nodding and giving a somewhat lame thumbs up to Alex.

The idea of time and choices played on Alex's mind. "Do you suppose this is mine? Where I'm meant to be? I put in for this you know; maybe I wanted to be here, somewhere, deep in my subconscious." Craig looked perplexed.

"Wow, that's deep babe," he said, considering it a good save, since he had no idea what she was going on about. Alex berated herself for thinking too much and tried hard to throw herself into the moment and enjoy it, making her way through the lively, smiling crowd gathered in front of the stage. Her eyes shot up to Gene, taking a long draw on his cigarette and suddenly being joined by Karen at the balcony. That decided it. She would enjoy the evening that was evidently a lost cause.

"Found her then," said Karen nodding down toward the DI being dragged deeper onto the heaving ballroom floor. Alex observed as the girl helped herself to a long gulp of Gene's pint and a draw of his cigarette and turned her head away.

"Do yer ever pay for a drink?" he said with a half smile.

"Not if I can help it," she winked back, "but tell me seriously, do you two need ye' heeds clashing together or what?" She shook her head and placed her hand on her hips, the pose indicating that this diminutive, yet gobby woman was about to give him a telling off of some sort.

"What yer prattling on about, woman?"

"Come off it, you and her. Old Blakey at the station might write me off as too thick and blonde to make a detective, but Christ it doesn't take Sherlock bloody Holmes to work that one out. Saw it a mile off."

"What yer after, Karen, from me?" he examined her questioningly.

"Well not ye' if that's what ye' mean. For starters I'd be wastin' my time, only got eyes for ye' DI. Clocked it the second you two walked in, especially when wor' Craig there rocked up with his sleaze routine. I was hoping ye'd spark him out, shame ye' didn't really. Ye' could put in a word for me with the DCI, say I've been helpful and all that."

"So, me, and her, that what yer think is it?"

"Ar don't think it pet, I know it. Plain as day." She gave a firm nod, as if she were explaining some misdeed to a naughty child.

"Yer way off love, no interest in her at all." It was a conscious attempt to hide the fact that she was right, and he suspected that she wasn't fooled in the slightest, and was far brighter than her colleagues probably gave her credit for.

"Ok, aye, right, that's why ye' have done nowt but watch her down there wi' him, and she keeps lookin' up here at you every five seconds. Watch and learn..." Karen shuffled closer to him and tugged his tie to bring him closer to her height. She leant in and whispered in his ear, "now, watch her, any second now she'll have a shifty glance up here, think ye' trying to get in my knickers and she'll turn up the heat a bit down there." As if on cue, Alex responded as Karen had predicted, dancing a little closer to the overly eager Craig, exaggerating her laugh and smile. Even Gene had to acknowledge to himself she had a point.

"What's this psycho-bollocks, you and 'er should talk, get on like an 'ouse on fire. Comes out with this sort of shit all the time, don't take any notice of 'er either." He could just about swallow that she might guess he'd be interested in Alex; it wasn't a huge intellectual leap to imagine he might want a woman who looked as good as she did and God did she look good tonight, the idea that might be reciprocated was way off the mark. He could write the game of footsie off as booze, even boredom, maybe it wasn't even meant for him at all.

"Right, next song is the decider." The band struck up once more and the first few bars sent Karen into a fit of giggles.

"What you laughing at? Better not bloody be me."

"Denial." She replied with a smug grin, pointing in the direction of the band. Gene scowled at her.

Karen's two friends appeared at the balcony, one clearly making a string of complaints about some boyfriend or other not behaving as he should be. Gene tuned out and watched Alex intently, the way her body moved, the dark fabric of her dress clinging to every curve, watched her rake her fingers through her hair and ruffle it. She was beautiful, perfect, a lost cause. He sighed. WPC Mason gave him a knowing look, "gotta go or Tracey is gonna blow her top, see ye' later. Oh and tell her will ye' please."

"Piss off, Karen," he said without any real bite and he was left alone again.

* * *

Down on the dance floor Alex was doing her best to ignore Gene, although she did note his companion seemed to have disappeared from view. It hadn't been too bad, though she had found it necessary to slap away the odd wandering hand. Her eyes yet again snapped back to her DCI, leaning forward and resting his forearms against the barrier that ran around the balcony. There had been times when it looked as if he was watching her, but he seemed to be staring straight ahead, lost in his own thoughts. Craig followed her gaze.

"He's a miserable old git, your DCI," Newton laughed.

"What? Oh he was his moments, he's not so bad when you get to know him, really, he isn't."

"No way, it's like bringing your granddad to a club. Bet the bloke's never read a book in his life either. Don't know how you put up with him, or why you bother. He's an arsehole."

Alex felt a tide of anger creeping up through her body, who was he to insult Gene, her Gene. He didn't even know him and she guessed he wouldn't dare repeat it to his face.

"How dare you?" she said with outrage.

"Aw, come on, Alex," he shrugged, "I just meant..."

She cut him off, "I know what you meant and let me tell you, if you were even half the copper, half the man he is, you'd be a damn sight better than you are now."

"Babes, come on," he said trying to back pedal, amazed she was taking this so personally. He reached out a hand to her shoulder, but she shoved him away.

She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, "just piss off, Craig," she spat as she turned to try and weave her way through the crowd, all moving in the opposite direction, as the final track, 'Temptation' started to blast out to the excited crowd.

_TBC_

_Let me know how if it was ok!_

_Smut very very soon!!!_


	8. No more mistakes, no more talking

_The moment you have been waiting for! Please don't read if smut/swearing offends. As always big thanks to readers, reviewers, adding this to alerts and favourites etc. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 8- No more mistakes, no more talking**

Gene looked at her once more, laughing, smiling, throwing her head back, flirting, why did he torture himself like this? The writing was on the wall hours ago, he should have left them to it then, but no she had to bloody insist he tagged along, playing games under the table at the restaurant, what was that about? Did she get some sort of perverse kick out of tormenting him? He might never have said it, it wasn't his way, but the way he felt about her was written all over his face every time he looked at her, she was either the worst detective in Great Britain or she knew exactly what she was doing. Yet another opportunity down the drain, judging by previous form Newton would have her knickers down in the next hour. He hadn't asked her to come with him to provide the entertainment for some slimy local DI and he wasn't going to watch anymore. She would never be his; Karen didn't have a clue what she was talking about. She might have got him sussed, but she had Alex all wrong. Just as he turned to leave he saw the expression on her face change, her smile faded suddenly and he saw her shove Newton away aggressively, and she started to push through the cheering crowd in the direction of the exit. Gene followed her, making his way down the stairs, fighting through the jubilant crowd as New Order's set ended on a high, and out on to the street, it was raining again.

"Bolly, Bolly, wait," he shouted after her as she clicked down the long street, lined with Georgian architecture, as fast as she could manage in stilettos, dragging on her coat as she went. She looked back over her shoulder, Gene was breaking into a run to catch her and it wouldn't be difficult in those shoes, she may as well stop, though she had no idea what she was going to say to him.

"Bloody hell, Bols," he was out of breath from chasing her, "what did he say to yer?"

Christ he'd seen the whole show, "nothing," she said insistently.

"Bolly, if he..." he trailed off unsure what to say next, "I'll go back in there and 'it 'im, say the word."

"It was nothing, ok," she was virtually, shouting at him now, he just didn't get it, how could he? It had only just dawned on her how she really felt.

"No it's not ok, some smart-arse, smarmy bastard upsets my DI, I'm not 'aving it," he was angry someone had said or done something to hurt her, defending her was instinctive, not that she seemed to appreciate it. Why she was so bloody annoyed with him was a mystery.

"There you are, your DI, that's it isn't it, all I am, your bloody DI," she screamed, passers-by staring at the unfolding scene.

Gene was even more confused than ever, "for God's sake woman, speak English, what are you going on about?"

"It was over you, Gene, I was defending you, happy now" she spat back at him.

"No. I should definitely go back in there and twat 'im now, and what the 'ell do you mean, just my DI?"

"Forget it," she said storming off in the direction of the hotel.

"Bloody women," he said, he would never understand them, they were a total mystery.

He hung back a moment and let her get ahead, there was no talking to her when she was like this, he made sure he could still see her, ensuring she got safely back to the hotel, though Alex was tougher than she looked, he wasn't going to see her wander the streets of a strange city alone, especially dressed like that.

Alex kept going. She knew he wasn't far behind, but she didn't look back. Tears pricked at her eyes, she was furious, with Newton, with Gene, most of all with herself. She made her way into the hotel and straight up the stairs to her room, locking the door behind her. She'd made such a fool of herself; she doubted she'd ever feel like coming out again.

* * *

Gene settled himself onto a stool at the hotel bar and ordered a large whiskey. He sat nursing it. This wasn't how he'd hoped things would turn out. In his wildest dreams he'd have been upstairs in her bed by now, even in the realistic ones he'd have at least got a peck on the cheek and they'd have rolled back pissed and merry. He was beginning to wish he'd brought Ray, pulled a couple of local slappers and made the most of a trip away. He wouldn't have felt any better, he wanted her and he couldn't have her, end of. He took a large swig of his drink and lit a cigarette, slowly exhaling, with the expression of a hanged man.

"Penny for 'em," said the chirpy barman.

There was no one else in the bar.

"Yer'd want change mate," Gene said glumly.

"The missus?" he signalled in the direction of the staircase.

Gene snorted, "'ardly."

"The other woman then?" the barman questioned, raising an eyebrow, partly to ease his own boredom, in part because people seemed to treat him like a priest at this time of night, but it was meant kindly enough.

"God no, besides, the wife's long gone," Gene sighed, he was pretty much alone in this world.

"Girlfriend?" the barman, perhaps unwisely continued.

"Yer a nosey git," Gene bit.

"Just making conversation, but I did notice earlier, the other bloke, she's not interested in him, face dropped a mile when ye' said nowt when she come down them stairs, I'd go up there if I were in ye' shoes."

"Bugger off and pester some other poor sod will yer," Gene said finishing his drink. Everyone and anyone seemed determined to give him their opinions, having known either of them for less than five seconds.

The barman glanced around the empty bar and shrugged, "same again?" he asked.

Gene stubbed out his cigarette and thought for a moment, "no, there's no bleedin' peace down 'ere," he said picking up his coat.

"Good luck," called the barman chuckling to himself in the certainty it wouldn't be his own room he went to first.

__________________

Alex sat on the bed sobbing. What the hell was she doing? She didn't know where all that came from, it just flooded out and once the dam was broken there was no stopping it, and instead of making her feel better, she felt like an idiot. Rejected, yet again. She wasn't even drunk, he just didn't want her; didn't even seem to notice her anymore. Just wanting him made her angry, with him, with her, with the world. She heard a soft tap at the door, he heart jumped into her throat.

"Bols, you alive in there?"

It was him. She remained still and silent, hoping he would go, but not wanting him to in the same breath.

"Come on Bols, open the door, I can stay 'ere all night if you like, shout through the door if yer'd prefer," his voice growing a little louder, but his tone soft.

Alex relented. She may as well get this over with, rather than save the awkwardness for the morning, it would be bad enough facing DI Newton, she may as well deal with this now. She unlatched the door and peered out meekly through the narrowest of gaps, her shoulders hunched, as she tried not to shake and shiver from the flood of tears she had shed.

Gene felt a sense of relief as he heard the latch click on the other side of the door. He had no idea what to say to her. Black streaks of mascara stained her face and her eyes were red, she gave him a glum smile.

"Christ, looks like you've done ten rounds with one of those big, local birds," he said taking in the sight of her, she still looked beautiful, but he tried to ignore that thought. It hurt him to see her so distressed, he had no idea what he'd done, or if that arsehole had said or done something worse than she was letting on, it made no sense for her to get herself into this state over a few words. She could hold her own against him, dressed him down like he was an unruly teenager, Newton couldn't possibly hold any fear for her. If he had laid a finger on her he'd kill him. He resisted an overwhelming urge to stroke her cheek and wipe away those blackened tear tracks, to try to make her better.

Alex opened the door fully and signalled him to come in. She suddenly realised that she was pleased to see him, wanted to reach out and bury her face in his chest, she fought it and ushered him in. She had no desire to wash her dirty laundry in the public space of a hotel landing. Quickly making a hasty retreat, she perched on the edge of the bed, trying her best to avoid eye contact, to conceal both her feelings and the undoubtedly hideous state she was in. What a sight she must look to him.

"Yer gonna tell me what's wrong, Madam Fruitcake, or do I 'ave to guess? Seems I left my crystal ball at 'ome," he said succeeding in eliciting at least half of the smile he had hoped for.

There was a protracted, awkward silence. Finally, Alex cleared her throat, Gene looked at her expectantly.

"Why do you ask me to do all this?" she asked.

Another bleeding cryptic clue, "all what?"

"This," she replied sharply, gesturing to her cocktail dress and shoes.

Gene shuffled uncomfortably, trying to avoid staring at her perfect body. He had no idea what she wanted him to say. 'Because I want to shag you senseless' he knew was unlikely to help the situation, more likely make him look a fool.

Alex caught sight of her face in the mirror on the dressing table, God it really was an awful condition to be in. She reached for a tissue from the bedside cabinet and began furiously wiping away the makeup stains from her face. As she stretched over, her already short dress rode up further. Gene couldn't help but swallow as his eyes were drawn to the lace peeping out from the top of her stocking. He had to turn his head away, he was driven to distraction by her on a normal day, in normal clothes, it was too much to tolerate.

Oblivious to his response, Alex clutched the stained tissue, and was finally ready to continue, "it's not like you want me, you asked for slutty, I gave you it, why ask?"

"What do you want me to do, Bolly? You were all over..." he stopped abruptly mid sentence, it would sound desperate and jealous, even if it was the truth, none of his business, he reminded himself.

"I was not all over anyone, she replied, spitting his words back at him, "I'm surprised you even noticed with your new best friend to keep you busy. It's not like you were jealous."

"Might 'ave been...a bit, and for the record yer far too classy to ever look slutty," he looked away, ashamed of his admission, fully expecting to be verbally crucified for it any second.

It stunned her, the quiet returned to her voice, "it's you, Gene, it's always been you."

She pressed her palm against her forehead, hit by the realisation that she might have read him all wrong, failed miserably to read him at all.

"You never said," she whispered sheepishly, "you turned me down."

"Yer turned me down, besides yer were pissed, wasn't right."

She gazed up at him; those huge hazel eyes still tinged with red had a renewed sparkle. A soft smile crept onto her face that was still smudged with traces of her ruined eye makeup. Feeling bolder, he moved closer, tentatively, slowly, questioning if this was really what she wanted, if she meant what she had said.

"I'm not now," her breathy response, as she extended her arm out to take his hand and draw him onto the bed beside her. He allowed himself to be led obediently, as if he were transfixed by her.

Even when he was seated beside her she had to look up slightly. They held eye contact; Alex could have drowned in those entrancing blue eyes. Her gaze finally fell to his lips. She let out a soft sigh and her lips parted at just the thought of a kiss. She leant forward, inviting him to meet her half way. He froze for a fraction of a second, over awed and battling panic, before forcing himself to snap out of this enchantment, it was real, it was actually happening...now. At first it was soft and feather light, but none the less electrifying, their lips barely touching, until he could hold back no longer. As his fingers raked into her soft brown curls, still damp from the rain outside, he drew her closer, his tongue teasing at her lower lip, then darting into her mouth. Her body turned to liquid, she moaned softly, slipping back until they were both laid on the bed, legs entwined, and once shy, now greedy mouths explored each other for the first time. She writhed, lost in the moment, her own need surging between legs, sliding a thigh up between his legs, making him groan as she brushed his already hard cock. His fingers still tangled in her hair, the other hand snaking around her waist, despite their arousal, both of them like shy teenagers, longing to, but unsure about taking the next step. As her thigh pressed against him he battled with his own need to be inside her, grateful for his earlier activities, otherwise if it got that far, it may be over embarrassingly quickly, it still might.

It was Alex who finally broke away, sliding back to the edge of the bed, her back to Gene. His heart sunk, he'd blown it somehow, she'd seen sense and changed her mind. It was an awful moment, thinking that was it, a torment only doubled by having a taste of what it might be like. She rose to her feet and looked back at him over her shoulder, that smouldering look was almost enough to tip him over the edge, never mind anything else.

"Could you," she said patting the zip at the back of her dress, breath still ragged with anticipation and excitement.

She watched him as he followed her path across the bed, there was no hiding his arousal, she gulped for air, until he was standing close behind her, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume. She felt his breath on her neck, making the tiny hairs stand on end, making her tingle, then his hot, wet mouth on her neck. Slowly, savouring every second, his hand shaking a little he slid down the zip, inch by inch, kissing and licking at each new piece of exposed flesh as he pushed the fabric away from her shoulders until the dress fell to the floor, revealing black satin underwear, much like the red version he had glimpsed at Edgehampton. By God, that image was burnt onto his memory for ever, it had fuelled his fantasies for so long, he wanted to kick something to see if it hurt, just to be sure this was real and not another dream in his lonely bed. He traced the line of her figure, running his hands across her waist, down the black line of her suspenders, to the lace top of her stocking that he had caught sight of earlier. She had stepped out of the dress, now crumpled in a heap on the floor, but she was still wearing her shoes, the stiletto heels making her long legs seem even more endless. He knelt down behind her, planting a soft kiss on the curve of her bottom. He sensed her surprise.

"Always wanted to kiss it better, since I stamped it," he said, stroking the pale band of bare flesh at the top of her thigh.

"It didn't hurt." She let out a little cry as his hand slid up between her legs, stroking her through the dampened satin of her knickers.

"I'll 'ave to stamp it again a bit 'arder then."

This time his teeth nipped at her skin, marking her, this time not as the property of the Metropolitan Police, but as Gene Hunt's. He returned to his feet and gently turned her to face him. He kissed her again, this time it was firm and demanding, his tongue possessing her mouth, as she pressed against him, aching to be touched and satisfied, her whole body crying out to be fucked, driven on as once more his hand teased across the thin scrap of satin.

"Please," she cried in a desperate, but delicious state of frustration.

He could tease her no longer. This time he slipped his fingers underneath the dampened fabric, to find her soaked.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, amazed at how ready she was.

Alex gripped Gene's shoulder to steady herself, as he worked between the slick folds, finding her clit, making her whimper as he flicked and stroked at the sensitive bundle of nerves. All inhibitions now gone, she raised one leg, resting her foot on the bed to afford him better access. He dragged her knickers back, easing his long fingers inside her, making her gasp as his rhythm quickened. She tightened her grip as tingling sensations radiated through her body, down her thighs until she was shaking.

"Oh God, Gene," she said in between incoherent sounds, as she lost control, riding wave after wave of pleasure as she came.

Finally, it subsided, her vision still a little blurry, the rise and fall of her chest beginning to settle as she recovered. He held her for a moment, feeling her heart race, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, and then laying her down gently on the bed.

Alex giggled, "you've still got your tie on."

He had been too wrapped up in undressing her to even think about that. She watched him undress, kicking off his boots and then pausing at his belt, stopping to take off his socks first, conscious that a classy bird like her would expect that sort of thing, it bewildered him how, in this situation he had the presence of mind to remember such things, it was because it mattered, she mattered and he wanted it to be perfect for her, besides he didn't want to look a div.

He was naked now; Alex looked at him, biting down hard on her lip as she admired him, even better than she had imagined when she had laid back on that bed earlier in the evening. She would have sworn he knew what she was thinking and blushed a little. He hovered at the lamp, asking her a silent question.

"Leave, it, I want to see you," he was pleased with the answer she gave, and had always imagined she wouldn't be the sort of woman to be satisfied with a missionary position quickie in the dark. He lay beside her on the bed, propping himself up on his elbow, trailing his fingers across her collarbone and down the length of her body. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, both wide with excitement and glazed with lust, before he drew her close and kissed her again. When he finally broke away, he knelt up, and with a teasing slowness that tested even his own patience eased down her soaked knickers and threw them over his shoulder. He grinned down at her, as her legs wantonly parted, a silent plea for him to take her. He ground his teeth as his cock twitched at the sight of her lay out before him, offering him her body and he could resist it no longer, lowering himself down on top of her, supporting his own weight on his arms as his throbbing erection first brushed against her, before he slid easily inside her. She was so tight and wet he fought the need to thrust hard into her, hearing her draw in her breath as he filled her.

"Ok?" he asked softly.

She could manage nothing more than a throaty sound of approval and a nod, but it was understood and in response he started to move his hips, making long, deep and slow strokes. She moaned, closing her eyes as he knotted his fingers in between hers, taking his rhythm from the way she gripped them. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he bit down, still resisting the primal call to fuck her fast and roughly, to come inside her as soon as he could. Freeing her fingers she put her palm flat against his chest and pushed him back. For a moment Gene felt confusion, relieved at the moment's respite from the sensation of her gripping him and pushing him all too quickly towards climax, but concerned that she was pushing him away indefinitely.

"Please, like this," she whispered. Directing him to sit up on the bed as she lowered herself onto his lap, legs stretched out behind him as she guided him back inside her. Her whole body quivered at the sensation of so much skin on skin contact, their mouths and tongues meeting as she began to slowly rock back and forth. He brushed the pale swell of her breasts, spilling out over the top of her expensive lingerie.

"I want to see," he rasped, his gaze lowering to her chest. Obligingly she leant back and slipped down each strap in turn, building up his anticipation before dragging their covering away and allowing her breasts to spring free. Alex tipped her head back in abandonment, arching her back to offer him yet another part of her body to claim as his own. He lowered his head, taking each nipple in turn, licking it, savouring the feeling of finally getting his mouth on those pert, perfect tits. Her hips bucked against him as his teeth grazed and nipped, until he could stand it no more and his own desire triumphed in the internal battle with tenderness and intimacy.

"Enough," he growled, taking charge, kneeling up, pushing her onto her back, raising her still stocking clad legs up to rest her ankles on his shoulders. She was even still wearing her shoes. Gripping her firmly by the waist, he wanted to look at her when he came, see her writhing under him and know it was his cock making her whimper and moan. He drove deep into her, her eyes wide as she responded to every thrust, panting and fighting for breath, clawing at the sheets as he fucked her mercilessly, sweat trickling down his back. Alex felt the warmth spreading out from the pit of her stomach, her elevated thighs twitching as he brought her once more to a shuddering, seemingly endless orgasm. Feeling her tighten and convulse around him, Gene knew he could finally let go completely, feeling like he was about to explode as the pressure built within him.

"Oh Fuck, Alex...Alex...Alex," he grunted out her name over and over again, as he spilled inside her.

Gene collapsed beside her on the bed, his heart thumping loudly in his chest and a broad grin spreading across his face. As she too floated back down to earth, Alex felt the unexpected sharp prickle of tears behind her eyes, tried desperately to hold them back, but could not. She turned her face away and large salty teardrops streamed down her cheeks for the second time that night, only this was a very different sensation.

Opening his eyes, he could see she had shuffled away and was lying curled up on her side, trying to muffle the sound of her sniffles. "Bols?" he said, nestling in behind her, brushing back her curls and leaving a row of soft kisses on her shoulder. "Did I hurt yer? I'm sorry," panic set in, was she horrified at what she had done, had he got carried away, been too rough with her?

"No, God, no, you didn't hurt me I'm fine, I'm sorry," she babbled, wiping her eyes.

"Yer not alright, yer cryin'. Christ what did I do? Bolly, please."

"Nothing, nothing bad," she smiled back at him, at least she was smiling it went some way to settling his nerves. "I'm so embarrassed, I'm sorry, what must you think of me? I suppose I'm just...just..."

"Spit it out woman," he urged, wishing he had perhaps been more tactful.

"Overwhelmed," she managed hoarsely.

"Never 'ad a bird burst into tears after shagging 'er before. Bols, please don't be upset," he said squeezing her hand.

"I'm not, I'm happy, really, really happy. It was...you were...perfect. I love you Gene Hunt." It was out the words were in the air and it was too late to scoop them back in.

"S'understandable, now come 'ere yer dozy mare," he said as he turned her onto her back and his mouth crashed down on hers.

_I have a couple of ideas to tie up some loose ends, but I'm not sure if I should carry on with this or not. Any thoughts? _


End file.
